An Unscheduled Twist of Fate
by Just Alex
Summary: Being a veela was not scheduled nor planned for, but that’s just what Draco is, and now he has to deal with it. This was mostly just for fun, but its NOT Just Another Veela Fic. DracoxHarry
1. Chapter 1

An Unscheduled Twist of Fate

Chapter One  
Change in Plans

On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, Draco Malfoy did not idly wonder why his birthday was in the middle of summer, a season he despised, like he had on every other birthday previous. He did not scowl at the morning light, or go through the day's schedule in his mind, like he had every other morning of his life.

No, this morning was different, because this morning, he _felt_ different. It was an odd feeling, something like longing, closer to need, stronger than hunger…Draco took a moment to contemplate what this feeling was. And then his eyes widened as realization hit him.

On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, Draco woke up the entire Malfoy Manor with his scream of horror.

* * *

No. No, no, no. NO.

This was not _scheduled_, this was not _planned_, and it was completely _unacceptable_.

He was supposed to graduate at seventeen, marry some rich pure-blooded girl that his parents chose, have an heir, gain status in the ministry and expand the Malfoy fortune, eventually dying, his purpose of furthering the Malfoy line fulfilled!

He was _not_ supposed to have his one-sixteenth amount of veela blood _manifest_! Now his whole life's plan was down the drain, and he had to find his…_mate_—insert shudder here—or he'd have this dreadful feeling forever.

This dreadful, aching, _wanting _feeling…

"What on earth is the matter, Draco?"

Draco's mother stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her ice-blue robe. Her long, white-blonde hair had been hurriedly brushed, and her eyes shot icy fire. His father probably would be there too, with a similar expression on his face, if he had not been out on business that week.

Draco swallowed, gathering the strength to calm himself.

"The matter, mother," He said slowly, trying very hard not to scream, "is that your veela blood, the blood that you passed down to me, has manifested, like you assured me it wouldn't. And I do believe that this annoying feeling is my genes telling me to go and seek out this person that smells like…" _Like the forest, like riches, like spices…_ "Anyway. I'm really hoping that my…_mate_…is at Hogwarts, or I am quite sure I will go insane with longing."

Narcissa's eyes widened, surprised at her son's unusual frankness. "I see that it's already working on having your emotions rule your actions. Be sure to keep calm; I don't want to have to rebuild the house because you burned it down in anger."

"Yes, mother."

"Your presents are in the blue sitting room. Happy birthday." With that said, Narcissa spun on her heel and went back upstairs, planning on going right back to sleep.

Draco sighed and began to get ready for the day.

* * *

Green button-up top with black buttons, dark blue-jeans without signs of wear, and shiny black leather shoes. Who the hell was he dressing up for, anyway?

Draco looked up at his reflection and sighed, picking up his hairbrush.

Oh, that's right. Himself.

Start at the bottom, work out the tangles, and smooth back the top, start at the forehead. Draco spell-dried his hair and grinned smugly at himself. Perfect, as usual.

Now that he was ready to start the day, he headed down into the blue sitting room and called Rori, their house-elf, and asked her to bring him some breakfast.

Then he sat at the coffee table and began counting presents.

* * *

Thirty-two.

Draco bit viciously into a piece of toast and scowled.

There were _thirty-two_ presents. That was _thirty-two­ _presents he had to write thank-you letters for. Which was actually just twelve people he had to thank…minus the ones he could thank in person…which still left seven thank-you letters.

Dammit. Why couldn't his family hate him and never send him anything?

Draco sighed and began opening presents, scratching out a list as he went.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
Tools of the Trade

Birthday Gifts--From

_1. Silver comb—Father_

_2. Manicure box—father_

_3. Enchanted mirror set (3)—Mother_

_4. Sunscreen—Mother_

_5. White winter cloak—Aunt July_

_6. Trunk—Uncle John_

_7. Polaroid camera—Cousin Sissy_

_8. Enchanted Wooden Owl—Cousin Tomas_

_9. Music box—Cousin Grace_

_10. Moving dragon model—Cousin Andrew_

_11. New wizards chess set, gold and silver—Pansy_

_12. New silk blanket—Pansy_

_13. Forever Rose—Pansy_

_14. Self-inking quill—Crabbe_

_15. Pack of cards—Goyle_

_16. Quill that draws animation—Blaise_

_17. Sketchbook journal—Blaise_

Books, All From Mother

_18. The Awakening Blood (What To Do When Recessive Magical Creature Blood Manifests) by Dr. Horace Scope_

_19. Wandless Magic (Why It's Important and How To Do It) by Whist Handleflick_

_20. Controlling the Power (A Psychological Study of the Effects of Emotion on Magic) by Dr. Soloman Phillis_

_21. The Arts of Magic (How to Incorporate Artistic Talent Into Spells) by Galavander Snitch_

_22. The Anatomy Book (A Guide to What We All Have and What It Can Do) by Grey Hawking_

_23. Arithmancy (A Detailed Explanation to the Mathematical Divinations) by Whotta Dorth_

_24. The Mirror (How to Look Your Best) by Sara Worthit_

_25. Useful Enchantments (All You Need For the Everyday) by Whist Handleflick_

_26. Photography (How to Use the Magical Polaroid to it's Full Potential) by Smil Click_

_27. Checkmate (How to Beat Even the Most Skilled at Wizard's Chess) by Tinka Boutique_

_28. Dusty Paintings (A History of Wizard Art) by Dr. Unie Versiti_

_29. What To Do (When People Love You Way Too Much) by Soloman Phillis_

_30. How To Sneak (Spells of Subterfuge and Illusions) by Neva Cot_

_31. Devilish Hexes (Play Tricks on Your Friends and Wreck Havoc on Your Enemies!) by Whist Handleflick_

_32. Useful Potions by Dr. Horace Scope_

Looking down his list of books and gifts, Draco couldn't help but think that his mother had likely been talking amongst the family about what he would be receiving for his birthday. She more than likely had an inkling that the veela blood was going to manifest, as well.

But it didn't matter. Not really, anyway.

Now he had _plenty_ of reading material for when he got back to school.

And the mirror set was going to be useful. One to stay home with mother, one to go with Draco, and another to give to the person of his choice. His mate, maybe?

At the thought of the unknown partner, the rich, spicy scent washed over him again, and Draco closed his eyes. He really hoped that he found his mate before the school year was over. Or, better yet, on the train…

He was especially happy about the sketchbook and animation quill, though; he'd have to thank Blaise well for that.

Pulling out the sketchbook and opening it to the first page, Draco dipped his animation quill in ink and began to draw.

He drew a noble cartoon version of himself, hands on his hips and a proud tilt to his chin.

When he finished the drawing, he pulled back to watch it move.

The Cartoon Draco strode confidently to the edge of the page, then looked up at The Real Draco.

"_Where's my throne?_" The cartoon speech bubble appeared by his head and Draco couldn't help but grin, quickly drawing Cartoon Draco a magnificent throne. "_Thank you._"

Cartoon Draco strode over to his new throne and sat down, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He reclined comfortably and his face grew smug. "_This is where I belong_."

Draco smiled as the cartoon froze, knowing that that was the end of the animation.

After a moment, he sighed, closing the sketch journal.

It was only a week before school started, and he had to pack.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
The Status Quo

As Crabbe and Goyle took his luggage to their usual car, Draco dropped himself off at the train door.

_Goodbye mother,_ he said in his head.

_Goodbye Draco,_ Imaginary-Mum replied, waving tearily. _Have a good year, study hard, and write to me every day!_

_Of course, mother._

Satisfied, Imaginary-Mum faded away into her true form—nothingness—and Draco strode through the train's hall until he reached his car.

Sitting between Pansy and Blaise and across from Crabbe and Goyle, Draco pulled out his sketchbook and animation quill.

"Thanks for the presents, you guys." Draco gave them all a small smile. "I really like them."

"Good to hear, Drake." Blaise grinned at him. Pansy giggled, blushing, and Crabbe and Goyle mumbled 'your welcome's.

Blaise then began a discussion on his summer and Draco dismissed them, leaning over his sketchbook and drawing up what would soon be a new animation.

First he drew himself, sitting with his arms crossed; then a simpering Pansy, a blathering Blaise; then just-barely-different Crabbe and Goyle, drooling. Draco put down the quill, smiling, and watched his animation come to life.

"…_Where is my THRONE?!"_

Draco smirked and quickly drew in a makeshift throne in the middle of the bench, which immediately shoved both Pansy and Blaise against the drawn-car's walls.

"_Much better._" Cartoon Draco assumed his Royal pose, and then speech bubbles appeared by Cartoon Draco's Cartoon friends.

"_Blah blah blah,_" Pretty Cartoon Blaise told them all.

"_Giggle giggle HIC!_" Piggy Cartoon Pansy responded.

"_Ug._" Said Cartoon Crabbe to Cartoon Goyle.

"_Guh_." Responded Cartoon Goyle to Cartoon Crabbe.

Cartoon Draco's gaze slid over all of them and then stopped while looking up at Draco.

"_What scintillating conversation_." The Real Draco grinned at the knowledge that even Cartoon Draco was fond of sarcasm.

But then the movements on the parchment faded and the figures once more made up only a drawing.

Sighing, Draco stood. "I'm going to the bathroom," He said in response to the questioning looks from his minions.

--

Draco hadn't actually left to go to the restroom, though; he was just sick of his friends.

Or his minions, depending on his mood. Only good for muscle and high connections.

It was unlikely that he could trust his 'friends' with his new veela secret, as they were all insufferable gossips—except for Crabbe and Goyle, but they were incoherent fools, so they didn't count. How was he to find his mate if no one could know about his…condition?

Fortunately for Draco, both he and his aforementioned mate were so lost in their own thoughts that neither one of them were alert enough to avoid crashing into each other and toppling to the ground.

Which they did.

Draco only had a moment to take in the most beautiful of emerald eyes below him before the wave of magic hit.

An almost electric current washed over every nerve, and the scent that had plagued him since his birthday—like rain and forest floor, the finest of riches and spices and herbs—almost overwhelmed him with its sudden intensity.

"Oh," He breathed wondrously. "I found you."

And then he was roughly shoved off of his beloved and onto his back, and a dark and furious visage towered over him. Harry Potter.

"What the fuck are you on about, Malfoy?!"


End file.
